


The Prophecy of Bothersome People

by MissMairin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Plants, Prophecy, Writers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:16:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3784537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMairin/pseuds/MissMairin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'Those who buy the plants are destined for great things, even if you do not think they are so great. May all the patience in the world be yours,' she said in a voice that suspiciously sounded like she was repeating a prophecy. After he left, Akaashi could have sworn he heard her whisper, 'You’ll need it.'"</p><p>(Or: Akaashi goes out on his balcony to water his plants before he sleeps, only to be stopped by Bokuto sleeping on his balcony. They're on the tenth floor.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prophecy of Bothersome People

 

Akaashi tapped his pen on the desk calmly, hoping the steady sound would do something to ease his slight irritation. Switching the pen to his other hand, he continued his tapping. He stared at the computer screen, hoping, wishing that something would come to him. Of course, ideas only ever came to him when he wasn’t necessarily needing one.

 

Scrolling up to the pages already written, he skimmed them quickly, editing small errors here and there. Akaashi knew what the plot was, his characters had all been filled out in their own little papers, he knew all the important points in the story… so why couldn’t he write?

 

He kept tapping. Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound filled his small apartment, as if he could hear his own heartbeat. It soothed him, yet at the same time, he realized he probably should get some decoration for his dull apartment. A change in his surroundings usually helped him get through writer’s block. If anything else, it gave him an excuse to go outside and people watch instead of actually working.

 

Finally deciding to take a break, he minimized his story, and closed laptop. He stretched and stood, blinking blearily to try to force his headache away. The headaches weren’t unusual for a writer, and especially not for him. He always dealt with migraines growing up, and the glow from his laptop screen would more often than not give him a slight throbbing in his temples. The really bad headaches, the migraines, usually only occurred when he couldn’t tear himself away from his writing, when he had to get everything out or else he’d permanently forget.

 

Akaashi grabbed his phone, wallet and his keys, stuffing the items into his jacket pockets. Glancing around his apartment, he felt like he was forgetting something. That happened often, and he never knew what he forgot, if anything at all. Sighing and shaking his head, he locked his door and trudged over to the apartment building’s elevator, pressing the lobby button. Soon enough, he was on the ground floor. For an old building, the elevator descended ten floors incredibly quickly.

 

Shielding his eyes, he pushed the door open and walked out into the bright daylight. He blinked several times, his eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness and continued on his way. There wasn’t a specific place he needed to go, only that he knew he needed some color and change in decor in his apartment.

 

He walked at a normal pace, glancing around and taking everything in. It was always interesting to watch people, even if there wasn’t anything going on. The observation, no matter how mundane, tended to help his writing. He watched people go past him, cross the street, anything there was to do.

 

There was a young lady in a dark red shirt that didn’t quite match her shorts. She looked panicked and angry, as if she’d seen a ghost and wasn’t entirely happy about it. What could be going on in her life?

 

The writer in Akaashi immediately kicked into action at his own question. He quickly supplied a background to the young woman, taking her appearance, clothing, and surroundings into consideration. Maybe she saw an ex that she wasn’t on good terms with. Maybe she overheard that she would be getting fired from her job. Maybe she was colorblind and feeling under the weather. There were so many explanations, but there was no way to actually know what was happening.

 

That’s why he had become a writer. Akaashi could never know what people were really thinking, what they had really been through. With his characters, the people he brought to life, he could. Of course, that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy being around real people. It only meant that he could finally understand someone fully, even if they were his own creation.

 

He briefly wondered if was even possible to understand a real person 100%; he wondered if he would ever see the day where he understood someone to the fullest extent.

 

Throb. Throb.

 

Putting a hand to his forehead to somehow ease the throbbing in his head, he told himself not to get distracted. He had, in fact, come to the shopping plaza for a reason: he needed something bright and cheery to improve his little apartment. The philosophy of understanding the human race would have to wait.

 

He ducked into the nearest store, only to find that they only sold appliances. The next store sold clothes, and as much as he wanted new clothes, he didn’t need them. The third store looked sketchy, like it would be a place where someone would get their fortune told. He almost walked past it, when a barrage of random knick-knacks in the store caught his attention.

 

The first thing he realized was that the entire store smelled like juniper. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign. Akaashi looked around, and was actually pleasantly surprised at how nice the store was taken care of. Even more importantly, he noticed three little flower pots sitting in a row. The plants looked sad, like they were struggling to even have flower petals, which they probably were.

 

Completely dumb and utterly irrational, he felt bad for the plants. He walked over and scooped them up carefully, glancing around for the place to buy them. The woman appeared randomly, scaring him into nearly dropping the flower pots. She was behind a counter in the back of the store, right next to the knick-knacks.

 

Still feeling a little wary, he made his way to her and put down the plants to buy. He also briefly stared at the random knick-knacks and took out a little figurine that collapsed when you held a button, putting it with his plants as well.

 

“Good choice,” the woman murmured as she tallied up the price.

 

“Um, thanks,” Akaashi replied anxiously, digging the money out of his pocket to pay for his new plants and little souvenir. He handed the money to the clerk and pocketed the change. Scooping up his newest purchases, he turned to leave.

 

“Those who buy the plants are destined for great things, even if you do not think they are so great. May all the patience in the world be yours,” she said in a voice that suspiciously sounded like she was repeating a prophecy destined for him. The clerk smiled at him, an expression that was slightly off somehow, but he couldn’t be sure how. He smiled back at her to be polite, and turned, high-tailing it out of there. After he left, Akaashi could have sworn he heard her whisper, “You’ll need it.”

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the day went fine, nothing went wrong. Akaashi put the two of the plants on his apartment’s balcony, and the third plant with the little figurine on his desk next to his laptop. He wrote, he ate, he went to the bathroom, and he wrote some more. Nothing out of the ordinary. There wasn’t even time to think about the bizarre prophecy he had been given earlier that day. Even if there was, he probably didn’t want to think about it. What kind of great things need all the patience in the world? It sounded like a hassle; he already had plenty of patience being a writer.

 

Still, he couldn’t quite shake that what the woman had said was true. The second he had placed his plants, ideas came to him, one after the other. He wrote more in a day than he had in the previous month combined. His story was nearly finished, after weeks of pouring his thoughts only to be impeded by harsh writer’s block. All this, immediately after he bought the plants and received the prophecy? Needless to say, there was something going on, with more to come. He didn’t know how he felt about that.

 

He shook himself out of his daze, scolding himself for thinking of the day instead of writing. Akaashi blinked, looking around him in confusion: where had all the light gone? His eyes snapped to the clock, and sure enough, it was midnight. Had he really been that absorbed in his novel? Probably not, though he couldn’t be sure with all the weird things going on.

 

His stomach grumbled, and at least there was still some normalcy in the world. He closed down his laptop for the night, standing and making his way to the small kitchen. There wasn’t really much to make; he would have to go to the grocery sooner rather than later. Akaashi yawned and decided: he wanted mac and cheese.

 

Ten minutes later, his mac and cheese was ready, fresh from the pot. He sat down at his desk and ate, thinking about random things, cursing once or twice when he bit his tongue. Once finished, he piled his dishes in the sink: he’d deal with them the next day.

 

Akaashi yawned again, and changed into pajamas, fully prepared to go to bed. He flopped onto his bed, only to be interrupted by the thought of his plants. Did he need to water them? If so, did they need to be watered tonight? What would happen if he didn’t? He groaned, “Stupid fortune telling plants.”

 

He forced himself off his bed, only to remember he didn’t have a watering can. Sighing, he reached in his cabinet and took out a plastic cup. He filled it up halfway with water, and watered the plant at his desk, careful not to spill any of the liquid on his laptop. One down, two to go. Going back to the sink, he filled it the entire way, and slowly walked out onto his balcony to ensure nothing spilled.

 

 _The faster this is over,_ he thought, _the quicker I can go to bed._ By then, it was nearly one in the morning. The thought kept him going and he quickly watered the other two flower pots. Finally. He smiled slightly despite himself, and turned to go back inside.

 

In retrospect, Akaashi probably should’ve reacted differently upon seeing a random person sleeping on his balcony. He should’ve been scared, or at least wary. Maybe even confused. No, he was angry, irritated, and sleepy. The only thought that went through his mind was _Great, yet another thing to keep me from sleeping._

 

Also in retrospect, he probably shouldn’t have kicked the sleeping person. He was just lucky that the person didn’t turn out to be a murderer or a creeper. Once Akaashi had kicked the person, they groaned and rolled over, blinking open their eyes.

 

“Why are you here?” Akaashi asked, looking down at the person and studied them. They were a young man, probably about his own age, with really weird spiked grey hair. The man also had golden eyes, which made everything just a bit more surreal.

 

Something else occurred to him. In all honesty, it didn’t matter why the man was there. The real question was how he got there. Akaashi raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms and continued his mild interrogation, “More importantly, how did you get here? We’re on the tenth floor.”

 

The young man finally seemed to gain his senses back, and he looked around in confusion that slowly melted into understanding. He sat up and looked at Akaashi, curiously studying him, before breaking into a wild grin and saying, “It’s nice to meet you too. I’m Bokuto Koutarou, at your service!”

 

“That doesn’t answer any of my questions,” Akaashi retorted in exasperation, putting a hand on his forehead. He could feel another headache coming on, and for once, it wasn’t from a laptop screen. “How did you get here?”

 

“Um…” Bokuto started, rubbing the back of his neck shyly, “I’m a good climber?”

 

“Are you asking me?”

 

“I don’t know!” Bokuto exclaimed, before shaking his head. It was obvious he gave himself a mental pep talk. “I’m a damn great climber!”

 

“Well, you’d have to be,” Akaashi drawled, “If you haven’t fallen to your death yet.”

 

Bokuto laughed, a pitch that didn’t totally agree with Akaashi’s headache. He winced, turning away. The lady was right, he would need more patience than usual if he was going to deal with this Bokuto person.

 

Sensing Akaashi’s distress, Bokuto stopped laughing and instead tilted his head curiously. When nothing happened and neither of them said anything, he broke the silence. “To tell the truth, I’m only here because I was trying to sneak into my friend’s apartment. I guess I fell asleep instead.”

 

“Wrong floor,” he muttered, turning to go back inside. He was stopped by a hand grasping at his wrist, and he really really wished he could just go to bed. Against all of his normal logic, Akaashi turned around, only to see Bokuto looking anxious but still smiling.

 

He let go.

 

“Do I at least get to know your name?” he asked, smiling shyly and fidgeting constantly. Still, his golden eyes bore into Akaashi as he continued, “I mean, when I tell Kuroo the story, I want to be able to tell him the name of my hero.”

 

A lot of different thoughts went through Akaashi’s mind within a matter of seconds. Shaking his head, he muttered, “Figures your friend is Kuroo.”

 

Bokuto looked at him expectantly. Akaashi rubbed his temples and grumbled to himself momentarily. He sighed, and gave in. “My name is Akaashi Keiji… but why am I your hero?”

 

“Well, for one, you didn’t throw me back off the balcony,” Bokuto smiled wryly, as if that had actually happened before. It probably had. He looked at the sky and whistled nonchalantly, only to look back at Akaashi with a completely straight face and said, “Plus, you’re cute. You also woke me up and had a conversation with me. That’s much more than anyone else could say.”

 

“Uh, thanks,” Akaashi replied, completely calm. He turned to leave, once again, and against his better judgement, turned around. “You should go see Kuroo. I’m sure he’s wondering where you are.”

 

Bokuto snorted and rolled his eyes. “Right. Well… hope to see you around.”

 

“Hopefully not like this,” Akaashi commented, a smile pulling at his face. “You don’t make the best Spider Man, Bokuto. Don’t get hurt.”

 

Even being dead tired and exhausted, Akaashi could still find it in himself to be nice. He wondered if it had to do with the plants. The lady, after all, had said that he would need all the patience in the world. Maybe the world was giving him the patience he needed, but…

 

That would make Bokuto one of the great things.

 

“Life sure is funny,” he murmured to himself, watching as Bokuto rambled on and on about being Spider Man. Something about how he prefers owls. Even meeting him for the first time, Akaashi was sure that Bokuto would be a very hyper person. It was past one in the morning and here he was, on a balcony babbling about being awesome, his eyes lighting up, a smile on his face.

 

Akaashi wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted Bokuto to be a Great Thing. It was much more real when they actually met, and the plants did their job, that he felt he should be capitalizing the Great Things. Maybe it would appease the gods or the plants or whatever that was pulling the strings out there.

 

He felt woozy all of a sudden, and grabbed the sliding door handle for some purchase. Damn it all, he should have gone to bed earlier, he should’ve eaten something better for him, he should’ve taken better care of himself. Yet, he didn’t, and here he was, being supported by a stranger he met on his balcony.

 

The world went blank for a moment, and Akaashi found himself on his bed, tucked under the covers and everything. He sat up, ignoring the pounding headache he had, and grabbed the bottle of painkillers he kept by his bedside. He took three, downed by a glass of water, and sighed. Then, it occurred to him. The glass of water hadn’t been there before…

 

He looked up, his eyes easily finding Bokuto sitting on his desk chair. The young man was watching him, and for once, Akaashi didn’t really feel uncomfortable. In fact, he smiled sincerely, mumbling, “Thank you.”

 

“Any time!” Bokuto said, his eyes lighting up in happiness. He twirled himself around in the chair, abruptly stopping himself. “I guess now we’re even, huh?”

 

“You could say that.”

 

They were both quiet, staring at each other from across the room. Akaashi was finally in his bed, and he could go to sleep, but it didn’t feel right. It felt different, probably because there was a man with intense golden eyes staring at him.

 

“I guess I should probably go annoy Kuroo instead, huh?” Bokuto teased, though Akaashi sensed there was some underlying sadness and bitterness. He stood up and stretched, looking around the apartment. His eyes fell onto a picture of Akaashi and his best friends, and Bokuto couldn’t help but smile. Finally, he made his way to the door, “Don’t mind if I use the regular way, right?”

 

“Um, right,” Akaashi agreed quickly, incredibly confused. This guy could go zero to a hundred, apparently. No wonder he was going to need the patience of the world.

 

Bokuto turned to leave, a sad smile on his face, and it was obvious he was insecure about being annoying. From the expression, people had probably told him often that he was annoying or that he wasn’t wanted. That idea tugged at Akaashi’s heart. Sure, he was a little obnoxious, but it wasn’t bad. It was almost endearing in its own little way.

 

At the last moment, Akaashi finally gathered the courage to say something. A split second before Bokuto closed his apartment door, he called out, “Bokuto. You’re not annoying, at least not to me.”

 

The door stopped moving for a long time, though Bokuto didn’t come back into the room. Eventually though, it was shut all of the way and he was gone. And, well, if there was a note and a coupon to a pet store from Bokuto the next morning, there wasn’t much he could have done differently, now was there?

  
Especially if the note had his number written on it.


End file.
